


growing pains.

by alighting



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Childbirth, F/M, Gen, Pregnancy, and other related topics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alighting/pseuds/alighting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peko has never had a mother of her own, and so when the time comes for her to raise her own daughter, she's not sure what to do.</p><p>Companion fic of sorts to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1104558">such great heights.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A slightly-belated Christmas present to my good friend Ichi!

Her due date was only a month away, and Peko couldn’t sleep.

In a month, their daughter would actually be here…and Peko would actually have to prove herself as a mother. All the parenting classes in the world (months’ worth, since neither she nor Fuyuhiko felt confident going it with only the skills imparted to them by his parents and their instincts) could not give her the motherly nature she saw current parents use with their children. She’d even taken to watching videos of animals with their young (particularly pandas, as there was nothing more adorable than a baby panda) in the hopes of somehow improving her chances of being a decent mother.

(Even the very fact that the child would be a girl could cause problems. They’d opted to find out the gender of the child as soon as possible, to allow for the proper preparations to be made, but the unspoken expectation had been that she would produce a male heir for the family. To learn that she would give birth to a daughter had been terrifying, and even if Fuyuhiko had assured her that he didn’t care about the baby’s gender and would call it his heir no matter what, she couldn’t help but worry about what the future would hold.)

How would this child ever be normal, with a mother like her? Even if you assume that her blood isn’t tainted, that she hasn’t passed down some sort of genetic defect onto her daughter, the bigger question is how she can even begin to raise a daughter who isn’t as screwed up as she is.

She has no doubts that Fuyuhiko will make a great father. He may have had a rough family situation himself, with distant parents who believed that love did not preclude you from killing someone, but his kind heart had always set them apart from the rest of the Kuzuryuus. She has no doubt that he will do his best to provide the best home possible for this child, even if he doesn’t necessarily desire to be a father himself.

But she is the chink in the armor, and she can only hope that her husband will be able to raise their daughter well enough to counteract her failures.

\--

Even in sleep, her worries plague her. In her dream, a little girl stands in front of her, staring accusingly.

“What made you think you had any right to have a child? Your parents never loved you, how can you love a child yourself? Why did _you_ have to be my mother?!”

It’s paralyzing, heartbreaking. The child – her child, she guesses, based on her words and the shining silver hair she has – is striking in all the worst ways. Her daughter’s face is etched out of her husband’s: eyes narrowed, teeth gritted, cheeks flushed. And like her father, she aims to wound.

“You’ve never been capable of loving or being loved! I want a real mom, not some broken tool who gives me nothing but a legacy of failure to deal with. I would have been better off without any mother at all, instead of having one like you.”

And, suddenly, her face changes. A sly smile slides into the place of the grimace, as if the girl knows something she does not. Dread curls in her stomach, soaks into her blood and spreads through her veins.

“But I won’t have to anymore. Daddy and I have found a new mommy – one who’s better in every way. We don’t need you anymore, so you can leave now, okay?”

She wakes with _we don’t need you anymore_ ringing in her ears (and the baby kicking like she’s practicing karate), and it’s only when Fuyuhiko starts worrying about her (in his way) that she realizes that her cheeks are stained with tears. 

She tells him it was just a bad dream, but even as she rests back against him the fear threatens to consume her.

Peko doesn’t know if the baby was kicking in displeasure, or in warning.

\--

Childbirth is, quite possibly, one of the most unpleasant things Peko has ever experienced.

Ironically, the pain and labor is one of her secondary concerns; her major issue is simply how _humiliating_ it is to have the midwife see her without any clothing covering her lower half. She has been raised in a proper, traditional household, where the expectation was that nobody but one’s husband should see such things, and even the understanding that childbirth is an exception is not enough to quell the shame.

She is lucky, however, to have a husband who is supportive beyond expectations. She would not have been offended if he’d wanted to wait out the birth outside, avoiding the mess until his daughter had actually entered the world, but she would be lying if she said his decision to stay by her side hadn’t been a relief. 

Fuyuhiko holds her hand as if to ground her, and as the midwife rucks up her clothing and encourages her to spread her legs, he gently distracts her from the embarrassment. He’s clearly as flustered as she is, youthful cheeks dusted with blush, but his willingness to pretend like the situation isn’t as awful as it seems is welcome. They talk about inane, stupid things, up until the midwife calls their attention back to the matter at hand.

It is time to push.

When all is said and done, there is surprisingly little fuss about it. Peko is yakuza born and bred, and the wife of the oyabun of Japan’s largest yakuza family besides. To show discomfort or pain now would be shameful, when the yakuza value strength and endurance above all. Besides, she is used to pain, if a different sort. All she has to do is focus on her target, her goal, her duty: bringing this child into the world safely.

When all is said and done, the birth goes smoothly. Even sweaty and stressed as she is, Peko still holds her breath as the baby is removed – and lets it out in a gust of relief as their daughter’s first cries sound throughout the room. Their daughter is alive (and healthy, the midwife notes), and even as she finishes up the birthing process she feels the pride of a job well-done well within her. Fuyuhiko evidently feels the same, gently brushing her hair out of her sweaty face (as he’d done throughout the ordeal) and then pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

They are parents, now, for better or for worse. A fact only solidified by the midwife bringing the infant over for mother and father to hold, once labor has been fully completed and the child cleaned up.

She is absolutely tiny. Peko is terrified of crushing her, of dropping her – suddenly she’s not sure if she can hold the baby properly, as either extreme would be terrible. Perhaps the midwife has seen enough nervous new mothers to dismiss the sudden hesitance (or perhaps she’s simply impatient), however, as she passes on the infant anyway. She adjusts Peko’s arms as she settles the little girl into them, reminding her to support the baby’s head, and then leaves the new family alone for the moment.

The baby is wide awake and alert, despite the ordeal she had just been through. Peko can’t help but marvel at how much the infant looks like her father – same hazel eyes, same light blonde hair (albeit present in one fuzzball atop her head in place of her father’s buzzcut). Truly, nobody can question whether this child is truly the oyabun’s flesh and blood with how his face is stamped upon her.

Peko gently wriggles a hand free to stroke the baby’s cheek, marveling at how soft it is. This child is not just precious because of her position as the heir, of course; Peko would risk her life to protect her for that alone, but that protective drive is only strengthened by the knowledge that this is _her_ daughter as well. She’s not certain that she would use the word “love” to describe how she feels about this strange new creature, but there is an attachment there, a drive to cherish and guard this child of hers.

Perhaps this is best – instead of being the kind of parent who is ever-present and doting, the sort of parent a child grows to rely on, she can instead be a distant parent who spends their days ensuring the child’s safety. Not being in contact with the little girl will allow for her to grow up fairly normally, not damaged by her mother’s broken past, but still guarded by a parent who cares about her.

After all, this child does not deserve to suffer for its mother’s mistakes, even if she does desire the love of a family above most else.

\--

The day after her daughter’s birth, Peko is once again visited by the midwife. It’s an important day, the day that the baby is first breastfed.

The midwife is particular about what she wants from Peko. She insists that the new mother open up her top, baring her breasts and creating a patch of skin for the infant to rest on. Fuyuhiko flushes awkwardly and looks away – even now, he treats her body with respect, something Peko appreciates greatly. The midwife assures her that skin-to-skin contact is important for forming mother-baby bonds (and so Peko resolves to avoid it as much as possible so the child is kept from turning out like her).

Still, she can’t deny feeling a strange sort of connection between herself and her daughter as the new baby suckles on her mother’s breast. Perhaps because it’s an odd experience to begin with, or perhaps it’s just all of her hormones going crazy again and reading too much into it, but something about the moment makes her truly feel like a mother.

It’s a sign that it must be done in moderation. Of course, she has to breastfeed the baby as often as it is hungry - there’s no way she’d let the infant starve. But aside from feedings and diaper changes, she resolves to hold the baby as little as possible, to keep it from attaching to her and accidentally inheriting her screwed-up nature.

…Of course, this first time she allows herself an exception, one time to play at being this child’s mom and not a birth mother. She holds her daughter against her skin once she finishes her meal, and breathes in time with the baby’s breaths.

It’s wonderful. But she values her daughter’s future happiness, and so she’ll give it up.

\--

When the infant is a week old, she is finally given her name at the traditional _oshichiya meimeishiki_.

While it is common practice to name children after parents or grandparents, they have decided to choose another family name for their little girl: Natsuhi, after the sister Fuyuhiko had lost all those years ago.

Peko is skilled in calligraphy, one of the talents she picked up due to accompanying the Kuzuyruu children through their high-class education. It’s also an excuse for foisting the baby off onto her husband as she writes “Kuzuryuu Natsuhi” on the _meimeisho_ – one less chance for the baby to get used to her (her smell, her voice, her arms).

Fuyuhiko has disagreed with her decisions; he argued that their daughter would be better off with any sort of mother than without one at all, and that Peko would be a much better mother than she gives herself credit for. She doesn’t know if she takes his suggestions with more than a grain of salt, but she’s also not confident enough to stick to the plan in front of him.

He might know, anyway, because she winds up being the one carrying Natsuhi around throughout the day. Higher-ranking individuals in the yakuza stop by to view the new heir to the family (and comment on how much of a shame it is that she’s not a he. Peko’s lucky that she’s a good actress, otherwise that could have turned out poorly).

The baby is surprisingly less fussy than expected, considering the sheer number of people and amount of excitement going on. Fuyuhiko suggests that she’s calmed by her mother’s arms, and that that’s why she didn’t put up much of a struggle.

She’s pretty sure that all the parenting websites say that it takes a lot longer for babies to grow attachment to their parents, but she can’t help worrying about it either.

\--

Sometimes Peko feels that her plan for keeping her daughter at a distance is one step forward, two steps back. She could ask the help to do some of her baby jobs for her, such as changing diapers or burping, but they don’t bother her much and she figures that they’re pretty typical working jobs as opposed to bonding cuddle time (although that still seems to happen anyway).

_I am not good for you,_ she tries to tell Natsuhi telepathically. _If I touch you, I’ll break you. You deserve so much more. I cannot be the mother you need, as much as I want to be, and I’m not selfish enough to force it._

Even as she fights to keep her distance, circumstances intervene. Her daughter develops colic for a week, and it’s a week of little sleep and bloodcurdling cries. Peko is forced to hold their daughter frequently during the week (along with Fuyuhiko, of course), rocking her gently in an effort to soothe her poor, cranky daughter.

It makes her doubt her resolution. If simply holding her daughter can be a source of comfort, what right does she have to withhold that, even if her daughter grows attached to her as a consequence?

She’s not sure. She doesn’t know.

But when she gently calls Natsuhi’s name to ask if she wants food and the baby just gives her a beatific grin in response, it all clicks into place.

Regardless of whether or not she has any examples or even any natural instincts, she _is_ Natsuhi’s mother. And if she tries her best and puts all her love into it, she won’t go wrong…at least, not with Fuyuhiko’s help.

She picks up her daughter and holds her close, as if to make up for lost time.

\--

She can’t believe how fast time flies. Before Peko knows it, it’s only a week before their daughter’s very first birthday – a day she’s determined to make special for her little girl.

She knows that most birthdays don’t have big celebrations, from what she’s observed from watching the Kuzuryuu siblings grow up (and from what she and Fuyuhiko have celebrated together), but she thinks a first one can warrant a small amount of fuss.

Cake, for one, is an important thing – one she wants to be able to make personally, to make it special. She enjoys baking, so it’s not particularly difficult for her to do. However, it’s going to be a new kind of cake that she’ll try making – one that is supposed to be less sugary and more healthy for little babies.

It involves some ingredients that she doesn’t have stocked, however, so when Fuyuhiko is in for the night and ready to take little Natsuhi off her hands, she makes the decision to run to the store.

Or, well. She’ll run to the store as soon at Natsuhi’s willing to let her mother go.

“I’ll be right back, honey,” she tries coaxing the baby with, trying to pry open a little hand. It’s impressive, how tightly this little girl is able to cling to her mother. It takes the combined efforts of Peko and Fuyuhiko to transfer their daughter from her mother’s arms to her father’s, the little girl crying the whole time despite their attempts to reassure her in gentle tones.

“C’mon, kiddo. Mama’s going to be right back, okay?” Fuyuhiko bounces the girl lightly on his hip, running a hair gently through her hair and over her back to try and calm her down from her fit. Peko smiles at her daughter as she goes to grab her things, preparing to leave.

“M-mama, maamaaa …!”

Peko freezes. Up until now, all of Natsuhi’s conversation has been baby babble – syllables that had no meaning, but no real words. But this was clearly a word, a plea to her mother to stay.

She gets what she wants, though, because Peko joins her husband in marveling over their daughter’s new achievement.

“Yes, that’s right, this is Mama. Say Mama, sweetheart.”

“Mama…!”

The shopping trip is indefinitely postponed, but luckily there’s still plenty of time to finish preparations.

\--

“Mama?”

Peko looks up from her book to see her three-year-old daughter standing in the doorway – and out of bed. She frowns lightly, setting the book down to focus her full attention on the little girl.

“It’s naptime, Natsuhi-chan. What are you doing up?”

“I don’t wanna sleep alone.” Natsuhi fidgets with her stuffed animal, as if nervous. “Mama, stay with me?”

Logically, she’s not sure what Natsuhi’s problem sleeping alone is. After all, it’s still plenty light out during these afternoon naps, so she can’t be worried about monsters or the like. And she’s taken her nap just fine before, so there doesn’t seem to be any reason why this one should be any different.

But logic isn’t everything. Peko has learned that, learned that people and children alike often do things that don’t seem reasonable at first glance, and that attempting to view everything in a black-and-white logical fashion will never work. Emotions complicate things, make people act irrationally and strangely.

She can hazard a guess. “Did you have a bad dream, sweetheart?” The sad little nod she gets in reply both effectively answers the question and tugs on her heartstrings. After that, how can she simply send her daughter back to her room and tell her to “go back to bed like a big girl”?

She reminds herself of panda mothers, holding their infants tightly as they slept as if to protect them from everything around, and comes to a resolution.

Half an hour later, when Fuyuhiko stops by the family quarters after dealing with the thugs, he is greeted by one of the sweetest sights he thinks he’s ever seen: his daughter and wife are napping together on his daughter’s bed, his wife’s arms holding their daughter securely within them.

He quietly readjusts the covers so as to keep them from getting cold, and wonders at how he got to be so lucky.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So - this was written a little while ago, but never got posted, and I just rediscovered this little ficlet recently. It doesn't feel like enough for a stand-alone fic, but given that it's covering similar themes to the original one-shot here, I figured it'd work as a pseudo-sequel/second chapter.

If there’s one thing Kuzuryuu Natsuhi is aware of, it’s that her parents have secrets they want to keep hidden.

After all, the Kuzuryuu Family itself is shrouded in secret - the thugs who are loyal to her father credit him as restoring the Family to its former glory, but when she asks why it needed to be restored they clam up. And Dad’s no help, of course - he always changes the subject when she asks, and just gets angry when she doesn’t let it go.

Uncovering these secrets is easier said than done, too. The only thing hidden Natsuhi’s managed to scrounge up was an accident - trying to borrow some of her mother’s jewelry lead her to finding some old love notes her father had written to her mother at various times. She’d never known her father could be that awkwardly sappy, or that her parents were that in love with each other - or that her parents were going to have a son, before her. She’d wondered for a good while what it would have been like, had the baby survived and existed in her place - an heir the Family could have gotten behind.

And sure, it’d been fun teasing the crap out of her father (the man who never so much as held his wife’s hand in public) for writing that shit down - especially since it had gotten him pretty worked up trying to deny it. But something this small was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to what they were hiding.

It’s not like she doesn’t understand the need for some secrecy, either - after all, she knows better than anyone that her dad not knowing what she and her boyfriend do while she’s “at the library studying” is best for everyone - but by the same token, this is her family, her history. To know so little about their past is unnerving. Especially when it’s a secret everyone else around you is in on.

It really comes to a head when the thugs start making snide comments behind her back - because they’re insults, she can tell that, but they make _no sense_. Things like “Of course she’s not _gokudo_ , she’s the daughter of a tool” and “That’s what the oyabun gets for marrying property like that.” Because yeah, she gets that a lot of the thugs disapprove of her and her mother, but what the hell kind of insult is that? It’s not like they’re exactly up-to-date on the latest slang or anything - they’re saying it like they mean it literally, like her mom’s a hammer or a screwdriver or something.

But it’s used, over and over and over again. She doesn’t get it, but the thugs seem adamant that her mother is a tool - and the few times her mother overhears them say that, she reacts like it’s something terribly negative. Whatever it means, it must mean something - something that her mom knows about. Something _she_ should know.

So one day, her curiosity gets the better of her.

“Hey, Mom?” They’re both in the kitchen, working on some of her mother’s famous baked goods (it’s a miracle she and dad aren’t a million pounds, really, when mom can bake this well and they have such giant sweet tooths). “Um...so, I’ve heard a lot of the thugs say things like that you’re a ‘tool’ or whatever...do you know what that means?”

...Well, okay. Natsuhi had never claimed to be particularly tactful, and even she knew that that was clunky, but she hadn’t expected her mother to go so pale over what she thought was a simple question.

“S-sweetheart, why don’t you go get some more flour from the back...I’m not sure we have enough there…”

Mom can’t even meet her eyes as she says that, pretending to suddenly be completely absorbed in kneading the dough. She’s not willing to let this go so easily, though.

“Mom...please…”

Mom winces, but stops kneading, finally looking up at her.

“It’s….it’s because that’s what I was, according to the family. Your father’s parents took me in to be a sword to protect your father….property of the family. Those who remain from that time….still believe in that.”

Her mother’s eyes watch her reaction carefully, nervously - not that she really needed to worry, since Natsuhi has the only reasonable reaction to such a statement (in her humble opinion, anyway): “That’s so stupid. What the hell is wrong with them? You’re fucking human.”

Relaxation washes through her mother like a wave, and she pulls her daughter in close for a hug. Natsuhi’s not the touchy-feely sort (not that her mother really is, either, but at least she doesn’t have to battle with the infamous Kuzuryuu-tsun during hugs), but she lets Mom do it anyway, since this clearly means a lot to her.

“...Yes, I know. I am human, and they can’t tell me otherwise.”


End file.
